My Shadow
by Clara Bright
Summary: I'm happy with Peeta. I can finally live a normal life...but it turns out it's not easy to forget your shadow.


**DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Hunger Games. If I did, I would have made the ending less appalling. I don't like Katniss being that depressed. I'm not necessarily criticising Suzanne Collins, the rest of the books were spectacular.**

It seems that my life was just a string of choices.

The biggest, most important being the moment when I threw myself in front of the Peacekeepers and saved my sister's life by taking her death sentence.

At least that's what it felt like. So little did I know then...

Another vital choice was letting my anger get the best of me and more or less signing my own death warrant by sending my arrow flying towards the Gamemakers and skewering their meal.

At least that's what I thought I did...

The moment I held out those berries, declaring war in the eyes of the Capitol was not really a choice, but a necessity. It caused so much hardship but I don't regret it. The Games couldn't have finished any other way.

That I was correct about.

Everyone's life is just a string of choices though. It just so happens that a lot of mine affected the whole country. I was born a normal girl from the Seam. That seems like a lifetime away. In many people's cases, it was.

Yes, everyone has choices. Everyone has to make difficult ones. After the revolution, there was only one choice that I had to make that I considered important, and I didn't find it hard. And I chose Peeta.

I was numb after the raid on the Capitol. I felt nothing but an agonising wish to just die, to cease existing because the world was too painful to face. I watched Finnick suffer the worst death imaginable and seen others mown down and slaughtered but all of that pales in comparison to the explosion.

I can still hear it.

And I watched my baby sister, a girl forced into adulthood by circumstance, be wiped out in a second along with hundreds of other kids. Prim, the reason for all of this. I entered the Hunger Games, I became the Mockingjay, and I lead the revolution, to save her. The second I volunteered to take her place, I was thinking of Prim and only Prim, and my need to protect her. I took her place in death so she wouldn't have to and it was all for nothing. I watched the purest form of good and innocence being blown to bits in front of me and my heart went with her.

I didn't even want to see Peeta. He tried and tried but I couldn't do it. I spent months of talking to no one but Haymitch, and rarely at that, and finally he talked some sense into me.

After pining away for what seemed like an eternity, I started to heal. My mother didn't. I knew she wouldn't, not fully anyway. She had lost too much; first her husband, now her youngest child. She moved away and became a professional healer, numb and unreachable. I see her sometimes out of necessity and sometimes we are happy and I can enjoy her company, until we remember we aren't supposed to be happy, and then we are not.

I recovered as much as I could. Peeta was sympathetic, as always. He just held me after the nightmares, whispering in my ear and gazing at me with such love that it made me feel dizzy. I have never been a loving person so I could never return his feelings, but I loved him in my own way and that was enough.

He wanted kids. Badly. I had accepted long ago that I would never have any for fear of them being reaped and forced into the arena, but now there were no Hunger Games. My children would be safe. But something still felt wrong about the whole thing. I had a suspicion I would end up agreeing for Peeta's sake anyway.

District 12 had been rebuilt so we returned to live there. We were married, a small ceremony, more because Peeta wanted to than out of necessity. Our house was bright and spacious and though we lived alone, we were happy. Well, as happy as possible when you have led a childhood like us. As happy as I could be when something was missing.

And something was missing. I couldn't put a name to it. Maybe it was that my whole life had been constantly moving and in danger that now it felt _too_ comfortable. Haymitch comes round often. So do Peeta's family, friends we made since the revolution, even Effie Trinket comes round occasionally. She is different now. She is quieter and more humble. She doesn't even seem to miss the Capitol that much after all she went through with me and Peeta; she's even abandoned most of the Capitol fashions that used to adorn her. Truth be told, I never noticed how pretty she was under all that make up and bright colours.

So why does this feel wrong?

It isn't Prim. I said goodbye a long time ago. Besides, I didn't spend much time with her in the last three years of her life. Is it a person? I know it is. I'm kidding myself when I say I don't know who it is. I have lost so many, but it isn't Prim, or Dad, or Mum, or Rue, or Cinna, or Finnick. It isn't District 13 and Coin and her revolution, it isn't my old life, it isn't my childhood or times that were simpler although, of course I do miss those.

It's him.

Naturally...

My suspicions were confirmed one night.

I am so often haunted by nightmares, as every victor is. The events of the arena, the agonised screams of my victims, the rush of terror when I was forced into what I was sure would be my last few days. It's strange, at the time I didn't really consider it. I was too scared to lose focus even for a second that it was as if the information never processed properly. I could have so easily died there. It was more or less luck, and Peeta, that brought me home.

Only to have the peace ripped away again...

If Peeta has nightmares, he never shows it. I can see the fear in his eyes sometimes, but I know he stays strong and unmoved for me. I am apparently that selfish.

I wake up in a cold sweat with Rue's agonised calls or Clove's bloodcurdling scream or Glimmer's grotesque body in my ears and behind my eyelids and Peeta is there to hold me and tell me it will be ok. I know it will be, but I have also accepted I will never be the same. I am a killer. I have witnessed death so many times. I have lost so many people. I am effectively a shell of what I could have been if it weren't for the Games.

Still, I pull through. For Peeta, for myself, for the children I will probably bear.

But then, one night, something changed.

I have nightmares more often, too often, I sometimes enter a blissful oblivion of nothing at night, I occasionally have strange and unnerving dreams that don't feel right and set me on edge, but I _never _have good dreams.

And yet...

I dreamed I was in a forest, not the arena; it was too green and peaceful to be the arena. This first aroused my suspicion. I was lying on the forest floor, the moss was soft and slightly moist but I had a feeling I wasn't supposed to get up, so I didn't. And I'm glad I didn't, because he was there next to me.

He looked no different. He had the same sharp, angular face with high cheekbones and a defined jaw. His dark hair fell in the exact way it had done in real life and he was still a foot or so taller than me and his muscular build evident in his hunting clothes. I found myself lost in his eyes. Rather than Seam grey as usual, they were silver. Hundreds of different shades swirled within and they looked at me with the same soft sparkle that they had always done.

I felt like crying, but no, I wouldn't ruin the moment. So I lay with him, by him. And we just drank each other in. Neither of us moved, we just stared at each other without talking and that was enough. Just to have him near me, even in a dream was a relief. It felt right and I found myself wearing the smile that so few have seen, mainly my family and my stylist, even Peeta hasn't seen it that often. But _he _had seen it more than anyone.

The dream was enough to satisfy me of the strange emptiness. We lay in companionable silence and that night I didn't wake up screaming or empty. I lay, smiling, in Peeta's arms, dreaming of Gale.

Peeta knows something had changed. I know I should have tried to hide my euphoria the next morning but I couldn't help my spirits being high. He smiled and told me that perhaps we were making progress. Something tells me he thought it was his doing. I felt guilty after that.

My mood heightens his. He smiles when I do. It was weeks before the nightmares came back.

But they did.

Nothing he can do stops them and he just admits defeat in that we had gone back several steps.

Then he came again...

I had found my old game bag in a box in the attic. I never needed to use it nowadays and I just sort of forgot about it. It reached out to me and I complied, touching its rough and worn fabric and being flooded with memories.

And then I was in the forest again that night.

This time, he wasn't there when I looked around. He came sauntering through the trees just moments later, completely at ease with his surroundings, as he always had been. The sun illuminates him from behind and my breath catches in my throat. Was he always that perfect?

He smiled, his eyes glittering with mischief as he sat by me on the ground. We resumed our positions from last time. I wonder if I will ever get tired of his face.

He didn't say anything this time either, just continued to smile and I found myself doing the same. Time didn't seem to pass at normal speed. It seemed to last eternity but then also seemed to pass in the blink of an eye.

Then something changed.

He moved his arm slightly but it didn't startle me, as if I expected it. He reached down and took my hand in his; lacing our fingers together and I let him. I had no thought of his past deeds, of my promise and eternal bond to Peeta. Why had I sent him away again?

It was not the first time he had held my hand. He used to do it when we were in the forest outside District 12 to silently signal me about game. He did it on the day of the reaping when I was feeling most anxious, although sometimes I would initiate the gesture because I was honestly worried for him. I remember when the feeling of emptiness and the dull pain of my father's death flooded over me, he would take my hand in his because he seemed to know what I was thinking, and he could relate because he knew exactly how I felt. I never gave him enough credit for his strength, emotionally, not physically.

I lay on the forest floor with him, totally immersed in the blissful blankness of my mind and the warmth of his hand in mine and the peace that I _finally_ felt. Neither of us moved any more, as if scared of shattering the perfect illusion.

I woke up practically glowing and Peeta was thrilled, saying that I had kept the nightmares from him as well. Oh, what he would say if I told him...

The next morning I feel slightly confined in the house with Peeta so I slip out around eight o'clock, mumbling something about getting some air. He doesn't even bother to ask where I am going. I couldn't answer him anyway.

My feet unconsciously carry me down the round and to the border of District 12. It is now perfectly legal to travel from district to district and the once towering electrified fence is now only shoulder high, high enough to keep out unwanted animals, and has a gate further along but I don't head for it. Instead, I repeat the motion I am so used to and crawl under the gap beneath the wire, concealed by a patch of bushes. I don't even bother to question my instinct.

My bow and quiver is back at the house, I have no need to hide it now, but I haven't brought it with me because despite how therapeutic it is, I no longer need to hunt either. Instead I walk through the hauntingly familiar woods, memories bombarding me of times that fell like both only days ago and lifetimes away. Muscle memory gets me to the large, smooth rock, so familiar after such a long time. It overlooks the valley, as always but it seems brighter now. There is no threat, no Hunger Games, no chance of starvation, but along with this, it isn't as comforting, because it doesn't need to be any more.

I sit down on the rock and wait.

Wait for what? Who do I expect to come?

I just sit there, watching the valley, teeming with life yet seemingly silent. I listen to the bird in the trees, a few of them are mockingjays, I can tell by the way they continually change tune.

I don't know how long I sit there, waiting for nothing, for no one. I half expect him to come out of the trees, using his nickname for me and twirling a piece of wire in his nimble fingers. But he won't, because he's in District 2, probably with another girl, possibly even a family of his own, because I sent him away.

The thought makes me feel physically sick. I wrap my arms around myself as a shiver rips through me that has nothing to do with the temperature.

Why did I come here knowing that it would just plague me with memories? Why did I return, knowing it would be painful and that the guilt would really start to eat away at me? I sent Gale away. It is possible that he was responsible for my sister's death, if indirectly, and I know that if he had known the specifics, he wouldn't have been a part of it. But I can't shake the feeling of betrayal at home with Peeta, so why did I come back here? And why am I wishing he was here too?

The answer is so simple I almost laugh at my idiocy.

He said I only ever smiled in the woods...

And he was right.

I was myself in the woods. It was my escape. It was my escape from a society which expected me to be an adult at 16, my escape from my sister's cries of fear about the reaping and of my mother's emptiness. A year later, it was my escape from what Panem expected of me, of the girl I had been shaped into, the girl who wasn't me. And I was only really me in the woods.

With Gale.

I can't believe I thought it would be that easy to shut him out of my life. He was the constant when nothing else was. He was always there, in the background, but there. A comforting embrace, a warm smile, a sarcastic comment that would make me smile and feel alive again. If everything fell to dust in the Games or with Peeta, there was always Gale.

I curl in on myself even tighter. This was a mistake. This place holds too many memories, good and bad, and it feels so _wrong_ without him here. Gale said he would always have my back, as I had his. He was my shadow, or rather, we both were. We were two halves of the same whole. Gale is mine, I am Gale's. Anything else is unthinkable.

I tremble and only realise then that I am crying. I love Peeta, irrevocably, how could I not? He is perfect. He adores me, he is supportive and kind and everything I could hope for. But Gale is danger, Gale is excitement, Gale is not perfect, Gale gets angry, Gale gets upset, Gale is a genius, Gale is a survivor, Gale is perfect in my eyes, Gale is my hunting partner, Gale is my best and oldest friend, Gale is out of bounds, and that just makes it more enticing.

I shake my head. I cannot forgive him that easily, just because life is getting tough without him. I have morals. I sent him away because he turned into a machine of war. I laugh at the hypocrisy. I am blaming him for turning violent under the circumstances; I did that years before he did.

I have the urge to run all the way to District 2. To hunt him down and force him back into my life. Would he want to come back? Would he want to know me again? I doubt it. I chose Peeta, I rejected him and sent him away. But he plagues my thoughts, my emotions. He is my best friend and I evidently am going to find it hard to adjust to life without him.

And yet after all these years, after everything we have been through, all the war, arguments, pressure, romance and jealousy, he is still doing what he said he always would. He is still protecting me. He still has my back. He is shielding me in a place where even Peeta can't watch over me. Gale is protecting me from my nightmares.

I walk hand in hand with Peeta from our house down the road to the bakery. He talks to me, I pretend to listen. I love having him close. I feel so secure. His soft voice and kind words lull me into a world where I am safe. He is looking at me expectantly. I nod and smile. He smiles back, we walk on.

We arrive at the square and Peeta unlocks the door to his bakery while I gaze around. District 12 is almost completely rebuilt since the Capitol bombing of it. The square is very much the same as it used to be, although the Justice Building is of a different design, and we call it the Town Hall. The Justice Building is too Capitol and it holds too many painful memories.

I smile at Delly Cartwright and her twin daughters as they stroll past on the way to the sweet shop. I never knew her that well, but we exchange the occasional friendly word. I like being on good terms with everyone in District 12.

My eyes drift over more familiar faces until they rest in the centre of the square. A statue is there now of five men dressed in mining uniforms, complete with helmets and head torches, in one hand they carry a gun of some sort, the other is raised to the skies, the three middle fingers outstretched in our sign of admiration and goodbye. It represents those who lost their lives in fighting for District 12 and taking part in the rebellion against the Capitol. I never liked it much.

Suddenly, my mind is dragged into the past. I see not a bronze commemorative statue, but a gallows and a whipping post. I see Gale, shirtless and bloody, strapped to the post and Romulus Thread, standing over him malevolently, whip outstretched.

I feel the colour drain from my face and I suddenly have the urge to rush forward and throw myself in front of Gale. But I stop myself, and shake my head. Gale is not there. I do not need to protect him. It was instinct. I still sometimes have a nightmare where I arrive at the square and it's too late and Gale is already dead and there is nothing I can do but stand over his disfigured form and cry. I often wake up screaming his name and cry for hours afterwards, unable to shake the image from my head. Peeta understands, he knows how much Gale meant to me, and how hard it would be to lose him like that...even though I have already lost him.

My mind is dragged into the present when Peeta takes my hand and leads me inside. I spend the rest of the afternoon listening to Peeta's idle chatter while he bakes his cakes, and staring out of the large window at the bronze statue while my insides twist in the most horrible of ways.

I'm having that dream again.

He is here with me, smiling, and I am smiling too. He takes my hand as he did in the last dream and I let him. Something tells me I should wake up, that my mind should not be showing me these things because there is Peeta at home who I mustn't betray, but I can't bring myself to wake up, I don't want to leave this dream. I feel warm.

The dream progresses further. I'm starting to detect a pattern. The dream was almost exactly the same as the last one, except with a development. Gale takes the hand that isn't linked with mine and raises it to my face. I don't move, or even flinch. His fingers lightly trace the angles and contours of my face, and I let him. He traces the shape of my cheekbone, my jaw, my nose, my closed eyes, my brow, my forehead, my chin and then traces a feather-light path over my lips.

My breathing deepens and I shudder involuntarily then suddenly I'm disappointed at the lack of contact. I open my eyes and I'm at home, in bed with Peeta. I take a deep, shaky breath and calm myself. I close my eyes and try to fall asleep again but I can't. Gale's face swims in my mind and my stomach twists with guilt.

Peeta's hand is resting on my hair that is still braided over one shoulder. I think he was stroking it as I fell asleep. I love it when Peeta strokes my hair. It was one of the few things in the arena that gave me a sense of safety and comfort. Peeta' face is so relaxed in sleep. His complexion is soft and youthful usually, but he wears the creases and lines that tell of the stress in his life. Asleep, all these lines disappear and it is just Peeta as he always used to look. I reach up and trace a pattern on his face, getting a funny feeling in my stomach again that I'm almost certain has something to do with the dream I just had.

Peeta's eyes flutter open, they are the deepest, clearest blue and I smile up at him. He returns the smile then leans down and kisses me gently.

"No nightmares?" He asks.

"No nightmares." I confirm.

This heightens his mood and we lie together, me in his arms, and talk. Just idle chatter, but it makes me even happier. It shows that things are normal, that this is our life and we are living it.

I spend the entire day with Peeta. Neither of us go out, we just stay in and enjoy each other's company. Peeta is teaching me how to cook, specifically baking, and so we make a cake together. There is nothing extraordinary about the cake but I am very proud of my first proper attempt.

He tells me he loves me. I tell him I love him too. I've possibly never been happier.

He shows me he loves me that night and I hold his hand as I lie, cocooned by his body and drift off.

But the nightmares are back, and Peeta can't stop them.

I sigh contentedly as I find myself back on the forest floor. I remember very little about that day. Effie was staying over, she's staying in District 12 to help Haymitch, which Peeta and I were both shocked and delighted about as we were adamant that our ex-mentor and ex-escort hated each other. Peeta and I insisted that Effie have the master bedroom as we were in the process of redecorating the guest bedroom so it was rather cramped and untidy. There is only a single bed so Peeta persuaded me to take it, announcing that he would sleep on the sofa. I was scared that he wouldn't be there to protect me from the nightmares, but it looks like I wouldn't be getting any tonight.

Gale comes through the trees, as usual, wearing his smile. Gale should smile more often in real life, it makes his whole face light up. I wonder if he does smile these days, if there is a family in District 2 who keeps it on his face constantly.

I banish this thought from my mind as he lies next to me as it is making me feel rather ill.

We go through our usual procedure. We lie, we smile, he takes my hand, he gently caresses my face, his touches so light it may have just been a warm breeze on me. I realise he still hasn't actually said anything to me in my dreams yet, which is a shame as I love the sound of his voice. But then I remind myself, no matter how realistic they are, these are just dreams. If I try to replicate Gale's voice in my head, it is very likely I would get it wrong and be disappointed. Besides, I don't want to say anything either in case it ruins it. I remember that horrible moment in the Quarter Quell arena, the moment that would haunt me forever, when the Jabberjay that was placed there to torture me replicated Gale's scream perfectly. I will never forget that noise, even though I want to. I never want Gale to make that noise, ever. Especially when there is nothing I can do to help him.

No, I'd rather if Gale didn't speak at all.

All thoughts of this, however, are immediately driven straight from my mind by what he does next.

He stops touching my face, his hand has come to rest underneath my chin. His eyes seem to flicker like fire before he leans forward and presses his lips against mine.

I freeze. How do I feel about this? There is something I had to remember about reality...some commitment to someone...

This information is either irrelevant or just goes straight over my head because I find myself responding...enthusiastically. Everything else melts away and I'm falling, but it's ok, because Gale is there to catch me.

He pulls me closer and I'm all too willing to comply. It's always felt right in Gale's arms, it's familiar, I just sort of fit.

He smells of oranges and the forest, he tastes like friendship, he feels soft and warm, I feel dizzy. The kiss is intense, and deep, and incredible, and scary, and passionate, and magic, and so, so forbidden.

My mind goes blank, I feel pleasantly fuzzy. All around me is just Gale, and I would have it no other way. We are in our element, we are undisturbed, we are dreamers, we are as close as is possible, we are each other.

And I feel alive, and it's indescribably amazing.

I sit bolt upright in the little single bed in the guest room of mine and Peeta's house.

Peeta...

I bite my lip. The dream hits me with full intensity. Just a dream, just a dream, just a dream...

But it was so much more than that.

It was a warning, a sign, the one occurrence that my subconscious created to push me over the edge, to help me reach my conclusion.

I swing my legs out of bed and tiptoe over to the door. Opening it a crack, I can see that mine and Peeta's bedroom door is open, Effie must already be up. I walk across the landing, as silently as possible, and enter our room. The curtains have been drawn and, apart from Effie's stuff in a neat pile on the chair, untouched. I move strategically about the room, taking clothes from my wardrobe and drawers, toiletries from the en suite bathroom and packing them in a small bag. I then get dressed myself and go downstairs.

Peeta is standing at the cooker, making breakfast and talking pleasantly with Effie, who is sat at the table, sipping tea. Peeta looks happy and content with his apron on and Effie is wearing a simple, baby pink summer dress made out of what looks like gossamer. Her honey blonde hair is loose and falls past her shoulders in natural ringlets. They both turn to look at me as I enter the kitchen.

Peeta smiles warmly at me and offers me breakfast, which I decline. From where she is sat, Effie has a clear view of my bag.

"Are you going somewhere, Katniss?" She asks, confused.

Peeta surveys me then, under his calm demeanour I see something like suspicion.

"Yes. I have to. It won't be long, just a few days." I say, trying to keep my voice steady.

They both look shocked.

"Where? Why? Since when?" Asks Peeta. I swallow hard, how can I explain it to him when I can hardly explain it to myself?

"It is just something I have to do. Peeta, you have to trust me. I will be safe, I'm not doing anything dangerous, it is just something I can't avoid any longer."

Peeta looks rather lost for words. Effie, however, isn't.

"Katniss, what could you possibly have to do? Where could you possibly want to go? I assume you are leaving the district, but you look kind of scared yourself. Have you thought this through?"

I look at her, expecting what I usually see when I do. Effie has often in the past talked to me as if I am a child, but now there is no sign in her eyes that she feels I am inferior or ignorant, she is concerned. I immediately feel guilty, but what am I supposed to say? _Oh Peeta, I just thought I'd pop over to District 2 to see my childhood friend who I sent away because I had the most incredible dream and he is currently threatening your place in my affections. _Yeah, that would go down well.

"Listen, I know it seems a bit rash but I have thought it through and I can't put it off any longer. I'm sorry, I've got to go, but I'll be back soon enough. I won't be gone more than a few days."

They are shocked into silence for a few moments. I take this opportunity to rush to the front door.

"Katniss, are you travelling to another district?" asks Peeta. I can't lie. I meet his gaze and nod. This seems to quell some unknown doubt within him and his eyes seem to swim with something like realization, like understanding.

"Don't be gone too long, I'll be waiting for you."

He understands. Of course he does. Peeta has always been perceptive, and although he would never voice his thoughts. I have a strange feeling he knows where I am going, who I am going to see. Maybe he thinks I'm visiting my mother, but then again, Mum usually comes to District 12 to see her old friends as well, and I saw her a few months ago. I can see how it would not be hard for Peeta to arrive at the correct conclusion.

I walk over to him and peck him on the lips. I still love Peeta, he is an incredible person, I just need to figure stuff out at the moment.

"Bye Effie. As I said, I'll be back in a few days." She looks confused still, but nods and smiles in return. I leave the house.

What on Earth am I doing?

I sit on the train as it speeds towards District 2. Ok, maybe I didn't think this through. Gale could be anywhere, I don't even have an address. Anyway, who said he would even want to see me? He's probably settled down with a wife and kids...a family. My stomach turns at the notion.

I bite my lip and clench my hands into fists. I look out the window and watch Panem fly by in a blur. No, I can't have doubts now. I've made my decision. I need to see him, if it is just one last time, just to assure myself I'm not missing anything, that there is no way we could stay friends, that he will never be back in my life.

I run through everything that could go wrong in my head. I could not find him, I could get there and be told he has moved to another district, I could find him and have him reject me or send me away in disgust, I could find him happy and settled with a family, I could be disappointed in so many ways and yet I know I still must go.

And Peeta. What about Peeta? Am I so selfish that I can just drop people off when I get bored of them and run straight into the arms of the forbidden and unknown? No, I remind myself, I am not running from him. I am not leaving him, I could never do that after all we've been through. Gale is not an alternative, he is an extra. I do not intend to lead either of them on. I am just trying to figure out what I want. I am so desperately confused that my head starts to hurt. People I've lost; Prim, Dad, Mum, Cinna, Finnick and Gale. People I could still lose at the risk of getting one back: Peeta. Is it worth it?

Gale or Peeta? Peeta or Gale? Gale _and _Peeta? Peeta _and_ Gale?

I clamp my jaw shut to stop myself from screaming.

Nothing is ever that simple. Choosing Peeta would mean I would miss Gale, choosing Gale would mean I would miss Peeta. Could I ever have both? Probably not, and not in the way I would want to have them both.

The train reaches District 2 faster than I hoped. I sit on it until the last possible minute and then slowly collect my luggage and get off. District 2 station is bigger than District 12, probably because it is closer to the Capitol so you had to travel through it to get to the other 10 districts. I know which village Gale lives in, so that's somewhere to start, but I don't know how big it is, or where abouts in it he lives, so it could take a long time.

I hire a car to take me there. The driver recognises me and I spend the half an hour journey half-heartedly answering his question and accepting his thanks of and for the Rebellion, and being the Mockingjay. I guess it is a distraction from the twisting and turning of my stomach. The anticipation is gnawing away at me and I find myself both scared and excited for the endeavour I'm about to attempt.

We arrive and I pay him, smiling when he tells me yet again what an inspiration I am. Luckily he didn't ask me why I was here, I don't think I could admit it to myself, let alone a stranger. The village is more of a town, it appears larger than the Seam was back home. I have no idea where to start, no idea how it could possibly end. I tremble on the spot for a moment.

I walk into the town centre, carrying my luggage with me. Maybe I could ask someone for directions. The town centre is quaint, not at all like I imagined it would be, not at all like District 2 before the rebellion. There are shops lining the High Street, commuters strolling down the paved road, minding their own business, talking amongst themselves. I feel foolish and alone. Maybe I should just give up now? I mean, what are the chances that I'll actually find him, and if I do, who says he would even want to see me? No, I should just go back to District 12 and Peeta. I don't care if it took me a long time to get here, it was obviously always going to end up being a waste of time.

Yes, I should definitely head back.

And it is as if fate hears my doubts.

I turn around to go back the way I came when I look up and my eyes meet another pair, exactly the same, mirroring the disbelief that is no doubt reflected in mine. My breath catches in my throat.

There he is, just stood there. It takes me a moment to realise it's him, even though he hasn't changed at all. He drops the bag he is carrying in shock, I do the same. His hair is slightly shorter, spiked up at the front. He is wearing a simple white t-shirt and jeans, a military band around his right wrist. His lips part slightly in confusion, but his eyes are glittering again with such force it knocks the air out of me and my own eyes fill with tears.

I say nothing, I just run forward and more or less force my way into his arms, pulling him to me with force that shocks both of us. Almost instantly I feel his arms around my waist, his breathing is heavy, like mine. I cry silently into his shirt with happiness as Gale surrounds every bit of me.

I've got him back, and I'm never letting go again.


End file.
